


no longer holy

by sailormoan



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Feudal Japan, Gen, Japan, Japanese Mythology & Folklore, Samurai, Shinsengumi - Freeform, Swordfighting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-08-05 16:53:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16371455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sailormoan/pseuds/sailormoan
Summary: After over a century, the prophecy that had been given was going to happen. An undaunted saviour and his followers are going to put an end to the war and lead the way to a new era. Miho Fujioka was a priestess who waited for that prophecy to come true. She didn't want to save the world; she was waiting for a saviour.A hero.That was all wishful thinking. She was waiting for a samurai, but instead, a peasant boy showed up at her doorstep, bringing trouble along with him. His name is Kirihito Nakahara and he is a lot of things: handsome, funny and stupidly smart, but a saviour is not one of them.





	no longer holy

**Author's Note:**

> this story has been inspired by the live action movie of kenshin rurouni starring takeru satoh

**I** f there was one thing Miho was always ready to do, it was helping her parents with the shrine. That place was so dear to her; it was overflown with memories of toys and laughter and wanderers full of fantasies and stories. It became to the people of her village a holy place where myths and reality intertwined and it was because of that that the shrine was made to last.

 

The floor and the walls had their own perfume, their scent always hitting home. It was as if the flavours gave it more life. Or perhaps that was simply the magic of nature - after all, nature tended to do that to a lot of things. To that, the curtains had their own granulated texture, slightly paler than the day they were brought as the sun would wash away their pigment.

 

Despite the few days where the shrine was quiet and devoid of people, it brought her the warmth of people and of home. She never thought it would one day go away so easily. So swiftly.

 

That happened during a very hot summer night. The window of her room had been left wide open in order for the fresh cold wind drifts to penetrate the room. The warm, oceanic air, climbed up the mountain and became unbearable for it brought in warmth and humidity. The curtains, softly and gracefully, floated above the floor, casting pale transparent shadows on the floor.

 

Miho was on her futon, the fabric of her dress light but nonetheless weighing her down. Her arms were spread out and she would often roll on her sides to find a new cool spot. She listened carefully to the sound of the curtains brushing the floor. It was a habit of her's to move around a lot until her body gave out to sleep. She had been like that since her youngest age. The quiet of the house was relaxing most often times but tonight it was not. She had an unexplainable itch that she could not pinpoint. It often happened to her. She had those instincts sometimes but could never understand what it meant.

 

She rolled onto her side.

 

The humidity made her hair stick to her face. She wanted to complain but her mother would not have it. It was far too late at night to dare move outside her room.

 

A squeaking sound came from outside.

 

Miho rolled on her side. She wanted the humid season to pass quickly. The ground turned to mud and her mother would yell at her when she would bring dirt in the house from outside. She asked herself if tonight was this unbearable, how would the following day be.

 

Rapid footsteps. And suddenly, someone entered her dorm. 

 

Miho stood up, gasped for her as she saw her mother lock herself in the room with the daughter. 

 

"What is wrong?"

 

The mother quickly pressed her index finger over her daughter's mouth. The look in her eyes told her everything she needed to know: they were in danger. From what? Or rather from whom? An animal would have found them by scent. It was a human. This led her to ask herself where her father was. Has he left them? Has he gone to protect them?

 

Suddenly, the sound of some clashing. Voices. Then beating. 

 

Miho accepted her mother's embrace and hid her face in the crook of her neck. The grip around her shoulders tightened, almost blocking her breath at the back of her throat. Above her head, she sensed some tears dripping down onto her hair, wetting the top of her head. She would have consoled her mother but that moment was not the right time.

 

The shouting and the beating seemed to go on forever. The sound resonated throughout the rooms and passed the wooden walls. 

 

They came closer.

 

More beating, swords clashing. 

 

A loud crash. A heavy object fell on the ground. More walking. There was no sound. Quiet.

 

Miho's mother pushed the little girl outside the house and shut the door. "Please stay safe, my little one."

 

"Mom! No! Let's run!"

 

The mother shushed. "Run before they catch you."

 

And the other door, leading to the corridor, swung open. Both girls jumped but Miho's mother had quick reflexes. With both her hands, she gave a strong push on Miho's body and sent her rolling down the hill, hitting a couple of branches and wild bushes that would slow her trip down. Luckily, she had the time to see two manly figure standing in the doorway, staring murderously at her. Men covered in deep crimson blood, the smell of sweat and torture. She knew, deep down, they will be coming for her again.

 

 

 

 


End file.
